Sweet Release
by Waste of Paint
Summary: Harry reflects on painful memories of a love that never was. PG-13 for slash, languauge and dark themes


Sweet Release  
  
  
  
***Disclaimer*** I don't own, don't sue. I really don't need it right now.  
  
A/N- Strangely, this is my first HP fic, although I've been reading HP fanfic for about 1 ½ years now. This is pretty dark, so if fluffy H/D is your thing, I strongly recommend you don't read this. Please be nice and review, this is my first fic of this sort.  
  
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I dust off the cover of an old photo album, one that obviously hasn't been touched in years. Slowly I open it, not knowing what memories it holds. As I turn the yellowing pages, I see very familiar images. A photo of me, Ron and Hermione, the Dream Team during our days at Hogwarts. Ron's giving the camera a goofy grin and Hermione's glaring at him. A picture of Sirius smiling after his name had been cleared. The whole Weasley family standing and waving outside the Burrow. Typical things, really, nothing special. But one picture catches my eye. This one was taken during our seventh year just before graduation. Most of the graduating class was present. I can see myself standing with my closest Gryffindor friends. But then, standing out against all the rest is you. Standing so poised and delicate with a small smirk on your face, as always. Your cold eyes look thoughtful and distant. This picture was taken outside and the sun highlights your light hair that frames your face just so. A tear spills onto the album, followed shortly by another, then another until only my racking sobs fill the room. My mind is carried away to a not-so-distant time that I remember so clearly. So painful.  
  
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Six years had already come and go and I was in my final year at Hogwarts. Voldemort had defeated again for the final time near the beginning of sixth year. The Death eaters had disbanded and Peter Pettigrew was found and sentenced to Azkaban. I was Quidditch captain and Hermione was Head Girl, which is what everyone expected anyway. From the outside, it probably appeared like everything was going great for me. On the inside, however, things were much different. I had a lot of emotional issues I needed to sort out. The battle with Voldemort had been extremely trying on my mind. The stress of graduation was weighting on my mind as well. And then there was you.god, you were beautiful. Through all the bickering and taunting I never noticed how much I really cared for you until our fifth year. I was so scared for you, I thought they might have made you a Death Eater, or worse. I don't think you even noticed the way I looked at you. Your silver eyes were always cold and unforgiving. As much as I hated to admit it, you were a brilliant Quidditch player. You flew with such ease and grace, even during crucial matches against Slytherin I could barely take my eyes off of you. I was smart enough not to act on my impulses, after all, besides the fact that you happened to be male, you were my sworn enemy and the Gryffindor-Slytherin rivalry didn't help matters any.  
  
My seventh year continued as the previous ones did. We would argue and get into the occasional fight. It wasn't what I wanted but it was better than nothing at all. Graduation was looming ever closer and I knew in my heart that eventually I would have to let my feelings be known. You were so unapproachable, so I had no idea how I could open up to you. Every time I wanted to confess to you, the words got caught in my throat. Slowly I worked up the nerve, each day getting one step closer to telling you. The day of graduation I knew I had to tell you before it was too late.  
  
The ceremony seemed to drag on forever. A huge banquet was held and then everyone was called up to receive their diplomas. After what seemed like days, the ceremony came to a close. Some of the graduates went to wander the castle one last time, but I saw you walk outside alone. I silently followed you until you came to the lake. It was perfect, we were far away from anyone else, the moon was shining softly on the water. From behind you, I could see your illuminated reflection.  
  
"Draco," I said simply. You turned around slowly, your expression one of mingled surprise and hate.  
  
"What do you want, Potter?" Your voice is soft and smooth with a rich flavour to it, like a glass of good wine. You narrow your eyes, not knowing what to expect.  
  
"Draco, I." I trail off, trying to think of what to say next. "I.don't hate you. Not at all. I haven't since fifth year." My words seem so awkward and clumsy. Nonetheless, I ramble on. "I think you are incredibly talented and beautiful. You are everything I wish I could be. Your soft golden hair, your porcelain complexion.Draco, I think I love you." Silence. "Draco?" You walk closer to me, until we are face to face. I look up at you hopefully.  
  
"Get away from me Potter, you fucking fag," you spit, giving me a rough push. I stagger back in shock. My heart feels like it's being ripped apart in a thousand different directions. You stalk away, leaving me in a collapsed heap on the ground.  
  
The days after that passed by in a blur. On the outside I probably looked okay but I felt dead and hollow inside. Surprisingly you didn't tell anyone about our encounter that night, so I supposed I had that to be thankful for. I vaguely remember leaving Hogwarts and getting off of the Hogwarts Express. I think I promised to keep in touch with a few acquaintances, I'm not really sure anymore. I devoted my life to working at the Ministry and of course I kept in close contact with Ron and Hermione. But no matter how hard I tried, nothing in life made me feel happy anymore.  
  
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I end my wistful look back with one final sob. Life without you still hurts so badly. The last I heard, you were studying to become a Defence Against the Dark Arts professor. How ironic. I still feel incomplete, even after years of healing. I know the truth, however. I have nothing to look forward to. My life is over. Overcome with new resolve, I walk over to the table, take what I need and begin to write. After I'm satisfied with my work, I take a deep breath. It's so cold. I grimace from the biting pain. I continue, each stroke less and less tormenting. My mind feels light and foggy now. Bliss is soon upon me. But then.panic. I breath faster, each breath more and more of an effort. What have I done? I threw it all away! What would my friends think? What have I done to them? What would my parents think? No, no, it wasn't supposed to be like this! I'm fading fast.too late for regrets.falling into sleep. Sweet, peaceful sleep.  
  
"I'll love you forever." No one heard me, of course. But he knew all the same. 


End file.
